


The World Finds Ways To Sting You

by Firecracker_Newsie (Enjolras_The_Survivor)



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Character Death, Doctors, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Sickfic, meningitis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24890896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjolras_The_Survivor/pseuds/Firecracker_Newsie
Summary: One shot sickfic where Spot tries to hide his sickness.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	The World Finds Ways To Sting You

Spot let himself in to the Duane Street Lodge. Nobody was back from selling yet, which was fine by him. It gave him a chance to sleep, despite it being the middle of the day. Spot was woken by the chatter of Newsies returning from what sounded like a very profitable day. "I even got seltzer at Jacobi's", "Bet he were amazed ya could afford it!" and snatches of a conversation about the circus floated through the air. Jack came over and sat by Spot on the sofa. J: "'Ey, what brings ya here? We's meant to come to youse." Spot quickly ad libs something about not getting a good night's sleep in a week, made believable by the ever-present bags under his eyes. J: "You know the drill if youse stayin'." Spot nods, he wishes Jack would leave him and his headache in peace. As Jack chatters on, Spot answers with basic yes, no or mm acknowledgments. Jack finally leaves for his 'penthouse in the sky' ("the rooftop", Spot corrects).

When Spot wakes after morning bell, he dismisses the cold feeling in his hands and feet as a side effect of the thin and somewhat tattered clothes he wears. The goodnatured banter on the way to the gate frustrates him, his headache relentless. Jack notices him wincing. J: "You okay, Spot?" Spot groans in response, the bitter October winds making everything harder. S: "Bit cold, s'all." Jack laughs, for all Spot puts up a tough persona, he's just as vulnerable as all the paupers and working class folk.

Spot's not entirely sure how he got to Jacobi's. All he knows is pain, aches in his joints and from the lights and in his stomach. Finch quietly comes over. F: "Jack, Spot ain't in selling condition, he should be in bed. Help me carry him." Spot feebly protests as Jack and Finch pick him up. Before they reach the Duane Street Lodge, he throws up. F: "At least we know it's just a stomach bug, eh, Spot? You'll be fine in a couple days, and no coffee." The last instruction was mostly for Finch's sake as the last time Spot had coffee while sick, he became extremely difficult and wouldn't listen to any sense.

Spot didn't get better in a couple days, he got worse, his temperature shooting up to 101, then 102. Jack started to talk about pooling their money, seeing if they could get Spot a doctor. Spot was oblivious to all of this, Finch changing the bucket and trying to control Spot's raging fever. When his temperature went to 104, Jack got the doctor anyway. The doctor listened to all the symptoms, hoping Spot's sickness wasn't what he thought it was. D: "Spot, I'm going to check your back, because it'll help me diagnose you and give you the right medicine." The doctor doesn't gasp at the tell-tale rash on Spot's back. "Mr Kelly, you were right to call me. It's meningitis." Jack gasps, it's a big killer. Just last Christmas, one of Spot's boys was taken by it. They've all seen the ten too straight lines on Spot's arms, one for every year of little Itey's life. The doctor leaves a small bottle of medicine with instructions and goes to check on his other, better-paying, patients.

Jack and Finch try to hide the truth from Race, but on Day 5 of Spot being sick, he storms into the room, demanding to see his boyfriend. Spot has kicked the covers off and doesn't wake when Race slips his hand into Spot's. R: "If you wake up, I'll be so glad I'll buy you ersters every day. I won't steal any of them. If you wake up, I'll be so happy, I'll give you half my profit." Tears are running down Race's face, dripping onto Spot's pillow. Spot's breathing is too fast and his pulse has weakened. Race sits up with him all night, watching the shallow rise and fall of Spot's chest. Spot's last breath was at 02:02 am on the 17th October 1899. Jack and Finch silently hug Race as the tears pour down their faces. Spot may have tried to be tough, but seeing his pale skin and stiff body against the starkly contrasted sheets, he seemed almost angelic.


End file.
